What
by Lily Zen
Summary: Alec has to do something that makes him incredibly uncomfortable. Humor. Mild slash. Mild DS. Possibly some Max/Alec.


What.

Fandom: Dark Angel

Pairing: Gen, Alec-centric

Rating: PG-13ish

Warnings: references to gayness, promiscuous gayness, alec pretending to be gay, and some other stuff

Archive: Ask

Author: Lily Zen

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><p>Notes: For the 2011 Christmas Fic Exchange. Alex wanted "Dark Angel, Alec, 'You don't really expect me to wear that, do you?'" Mwahahaha!<p>

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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><p>Alec was pouting.<p>

He was trying to deny it, but the exasperated look on Max's face told him she saw right through his protestations. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she was tapping her foot, hip cocked slightly to one side. Her entire demeanor stated coldly, 'Alec, shut the fuck up, and suck it up.'

Max's disapproving gaze was often more effective at making him fall in line than he liked to admit. It was certainly a better motivator than the drill sergeants at Manticore.

"You don't really expect me to wear that, do you?" he repeated, eyeing the…costume…on the hanger that Mole was eyeing suspiciously as well from across the room.

"Yes," Max replied, her voice implacable.

"But," he began, and knew his voice was dangerously close to a whine, "Max, I—"

"Alec," she barked his name. "I know you don't want to do this. Hell, I don't want you to do this. If you have a panic attack and fuck this up, I will kill you. We need this heist. We need to sell Rufio's collection so that we can—oh, I don't know—eat! The only time we can get anywhere near it is during this party." Max began pacing back and forth, her smooth prowl making Alec think of the one time he'd gone to the zoo, and how the big cats had paced the confines of their enclosures, seeking relief from the mind-numbing boredom of their lives in captivity.

The command room was cold, but Max was only wearing a t-shirt. _Well_, Alec thought, _at least she's keeping herself warm. _He was wearing a heavy sweater, and eyed her bare forearms sympathetically. He was freezing, and that was with his transgenic body temperature _and_ the thick, camel-colored sweater. He spared a moment to imagine Max's skin trying to jump off her body and head for warmer climates without its recalcitrant owner.

Abruptly turning on her heel, Max nailed him in place with a glare. "I'd do it myself," she started out saying, "But I don't exactly have the required parts, and I swear to god, Alec, if you crack a joke right now about how I'm manlier than everybody here put together, I will dropkick you."

He raised his hands, palms out, in the universal sign of 'hey, don't look at me, I'm harmless,' and shrugged. "Wouldn't dream of it, Maxie." His smirk said otherwise.

She rubbed her temple, and then dropped her hand, looking up at him pleadingly. "You're the only one I'd trust besides myself with this. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you could handle it."

At her heartfelt almost-plea, Alec found his will softening. He was such a sucker for Max when she revealed the facet of her personality that wasn't as cold as steel, as hard as diamond. He glanced over at the costume again and sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine," he ground out, "But you owe me so big for this." Stalking over to the hanger, he ripped it off the nail it had been hooked on to, and looked down at it with disgust. "Fine," Alec repeated, and then under his breath, "I can do this."

In his sleeping quarters, still trying to convince himself, he glanced down, buttoning up the fly on the leather pants, and said lightly, "It's just a gay sex-party. I can totally do this."

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><p>There was no fucking way he could do this. Nuh-uh, not a chance. He was totally about to have a straight-guy meltdown. His ass had already been pawed at more times than he could count on one hand. People kept trying to pull him into corners and couches, piles of men that were just grunting, sweating, licking, touching…and doing lots of other things that Alec was trying very hard not to think about.<p>

Now he knew how women felt, and it sucked. As soon as he got out of this terrible, awful house party, he was turning over a new leaf. He was going to treat women with respect, dammit, and—

"Hands off," Alec barked, grabbing the hand on his crotch and twisting back, rotating the wrist painfully. The guy the hand belonged to whimpered, but it wasn't entirely a pain sound. Something inside of the transgenic squirmed away from the thought uncomfortably.

"Hey, man…hey," the guy stuttered. His pupils were dilated—he was obviously on something—and he was mostly naked except for a pair of tiny bikini underwear. Alec could see that he was a pretty good looking guy, which probably explained the hickeys on his neck and chest, but it was without a stir of passion that he noted the blond hair, blue eyes, and cut figure. Instead of thinking in terms of attractiveness, his mind automatically catalogued the other man's threat level like they were standing on a battlefield.

In a lot of ways Alec supposed this _was_ a battlefield for him.

"Hey," the guy said again, "if you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was ask." He licked his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alec noticed that some of the party-goers were staring. He was drawing attention. That wasn't good since he had yet to find a moment alone with Rufio's prized collection of ancient sex scrolls or whatever they were.

It wasn't for the first time that Alec cursed his appearance and his makers. He knew how he looked in the black leather pants that hugged his ass and his thighs, the silver button fly drawing attention to his package. His tank top was a size too small, and it clung to his muscles, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. He'd mussed his hair more than usual, and pierced his ear with a small silver hoop on one side. Big black boots completed the look, the laces partly undone, one of the tongues flopping over. He had even gone to see one of the female X5s and had her smear a little eyeliner around his eyes. She'd laughed and told him it was 'guy-liner.' In short, Alec looked like what he was supposed to be: a hot little piece of ass.

If he was going to do something, he was going to at least do it right. His training wouldn't let him do otherwise.

Eyes were still on him, and he needed to make them turn away. Cursing inwardly, Alec pulled up on the other man's arm, bringing him up onto his knees and then further so that his weight was forced onto his shins. He put his mouth on top of the drugged up twink's, and kissed him roughly with enough promise that the guy would be interested and maybe get the hint, sneak off with him to the study and—

A tongue swept into his mouth.

Max owed him _so huge_ for this!

Alec nipped the appendage and backed away. The other man was short of breath. Alec wasn't. He was completely in control of this situation, and he was not ruthlessly suppressing the urge to gag. _Oh god…don't think about gagging right now._

"Follow me," Alec growled, and released the man, dropping him back to the carpeted floor. He started walking toward the study, and the young-ish man scrambled to follow him. Good.

"Get out," he barked at the other people in the room. Men looked up; a trio on the leather couch (yuck), one guy watching them, and two more poring over the fragile documents in the glass display case where a sideboard would have been in any other nouveau riche douchebag's study.

"Fuck you," one of the guys sneered.

Another laughed. "I will."

"Out," Alec nodded to the door. "I do my best work in private." He let a smirk grace his features, and he knew his eyes grew hot and heavy-lidded. His body shifted subtly, drawing the man who had come with him into his orbit.

His audience appreciated the lasciviousness, and responded to the seriousness, the command in his voice just as good little soldiers would have.

They left, the door closing behind them.

It was with a sense of relief that Alec choked the guy out and left him on the sticky couch, and a matter of moments to break into the display case and take the delicate texts.

He went out the window, and hit speed dial on his cell phone. He didn't even wait for the greeting before he launched into his diatribe. "Max, I just kissed a dude for this, and I have had more guys grab my junk tonight than I am entirely comfortable with…but I have your stupid ancient sex guide. Now, let's talk about all the ways in which you are going to pay me back for this. My masculinity has taken some serious blows tonight. It's gonna take some work. You can start on your knees," he drawled suggestively.

There was a sound like a squawk on the other end of the phone, and Alec hung up guffawing, thoughts of a 'new leaf' already forgotten.

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><p>-FIN-<p> 


End file.
